by kendra Smith
She wanted to scream, wanted to swim as fast as she could to the top, but somehow managed to take a shallow a breath as she could when she looked up at the surface. Tom tightened his grip and his kind eyes bored into her through the mask. I am petrified, she thought. Thank God I am with Tom. She tried to keep her breathing slow. Keep it together.
The air in her tank was rapidly running out; the nausea was returning. Suddenly Katie realised where she was. I am under an enormous amount of water. She shivered, felt a tidal wave of panic rise in her. She had pins and needles up her legs as her stomach flipped over. She focused her vision towards the surface, saw the sun shimmering on the water’s surface, but it all seemed so far away. I need to breathe normally, normally… without something in my mouth. We must be around eight metres away at least – it looks like eighty. Just then the air seemed to stop and start. She took a breath and nothing was there. She spat her regulator out, reached for Tom’s spare octopus, grabbed at his chest, her eyes wild. He shook his head, tried to help her, but, just then, the octopus slipped out of his hand.
Watching it float away behind Tom, something snapped inside her. I am trapped below eight metres of water. I have no air… She was shaking uncontrollably, watching as Tom grabbed for the regulator but kept missing. A huge balloon of stress was gathering inside her, out of control, needed to burst. Tom’s eyes narrowed behind his mask as she let go of him. She fiddled with her weight belt, felt it release, then kicked her fins furiously. I must reach the top, she thought, slowly rising, but suddenly she was catapulted upwards as the weight belt finally fell from her. She was travelling upwards at a terrifying speed. I need to breathe, need to breathe, can just see Tom’s bubbles below me; look up, look up, you can do it…
She kicked faster, but this made her need air even more. She felt dizzy… opened her mouth, gulped in water. Suddenly water was in her mask too; she was coughing silently. Out of nowhere she felt this excruciating pain shatter through her skull… Then suddenly everything went black.
53
Katie could hear the sound of an ambulance getting louder in the background. There was a pain, a very severe pain in her head. She tried to open her eyes but couldn’t see. I want my mum, thought Katie. I want her to make it better. I want my blanky. I want the agony to go away and I want to be normal again.
Tom was crying, sobbing, on his knees next to her; his huge, solid shoulders under a T-shirt were shaking. She heard him say: ‘Katie, oh thank God, are you all right? The paddle surfer… he said your eyes were rolling backwards in the sockets… he…’ He was cupping her chin in his hands. She felt dizzy and sick. Paddle surfer? There was sand everywhere; she felt it scratch her back. Where am I?
Suddenly a noise filled the beach and a team of paramedics were surrounding her, expertly moving Tom out the way, talking soothingly to him. An oxygen mask was placed over Katie’s mouth and she could just make out Blake explaining what had happened. The words ‘paddle surfer’ kept cropping up, but she felt increasingly dizzy, just remembering the words ‘abnormally fast ascent, no weight belt.’
I want to shout out, thought Katie, but I just feel exhausted. She let her eyelids close, was aware of someone stroking her hair, another had their hand on her wrist; someone prised open her eyes, shone a torch. She was being lifted onto something, something soft. She felt like she was in a movie, looking down; there I am lying on a stretcher, she thought, and closed her eyes again. I am here, she said to herself, but then again, kind of not here… as her mind drifted off. She saw shells, a seadragon… bubbles.
‘Katie? Katie? We’re taking you to hospital, OK.’ Her eyes rolled in their sockets and it was far too much effort to open them. She was barely aware of what was going on now… a dream… the sound of an ambulance. It’s very loud, she thought. God, my head is fuzzy.
At the hospital she was kept horizontal, was wheeled past people, past vending machines. She stared up at the fluorescent lighting, screwed her eyes up at the brightness. Where’s Tom? She was then aware of being pushed into a very quiet room. God, I need to pee, but can’t move. There was a woman telling her to keep still. Had she got any metal hair clips in? What a strange question.
‘Katie, you’re going to have an MRI, darl, so you must keep still, OK?’ There was a nurse looking down at her, a gold chain dangling from her neck. She put her hand on Katie’s arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. Katie nodded. Why is Tom not here? Slowly, her head passed through a huge metal tube. She took a deep breath and heard clicks and bangs. What are they doing?
Slowly her whole body moved backwards on the flat metal bed. There were headphones placed over her ears. ‘Are you OK, Katie?’ asked the operator. She mumbled ‘yes’. He asked her to be still. Very still, said that there would be loud noises. Suddenly a terrifying screech filled the cavity. Maybe this is what hell was like, a place where you stare at a blue neon glow and where you can’t turn off the noise, where you can’t move. She closed her eyes tight shut. And what if they didn’t find a brain? What if, having been subsumed with domestic duties for many years, they find that much of her brain had eroded? Suddenly the noise stopped as abruptly as it began. The operator was speaking again. He told her there were only three more scans and then it would all be over.
Katie recognised the doors, the lights. She was being wheeled back into a small room in casualty. She saw Tom and started to cry; he came over to her, dropped his head onto her chest and let out an enormous sigh. I feel so tired, thought Katie, just as there was another voice in the room. She could make out the doctor talking to Tom; heard the words ‘looking for internal bleeding, because she blacked out, because of the bang to her head’. She then heard a sharp intake of breath from Tom. What bang? I can’t remember anything. ‘Looking for any swelling in the brain.’ What?
*
Katie woke up in another room, much quieter and with windows this time. There was a nurse in there bending over the end of her bed.
‘Can I have a glass of water?’ she whispered hoarsely.
The nurse looked up and smiled at Katie. ‘Hold on, I’ll get you one.’ She returned with a glass and straw, held it to Katie’s face. ‘Don’t lift your head, Katie, just sip from the straw.’
‘Where’s my husband?’
‘He’s just outside with the doctor. I’ll tell them you’re awake.’
Tom walked in the door and rushed up to her bed. He carefully put his arms around her as she noticed the rims of his eyes were the colour of beetroot. He was shaking.
‘Tom?’
‘It’s all right, sweetheart, the doctor’s about to come in and explain everything…’
Katie tried to lift her head, but it felt far too heavy; just then, everything went out of focus… as she felt a sharp stabbing pain in the back of her head.
‘Katie, Katie, can you hear me?’ Someone was speaking to her, a voice she didn’t recognise. Through a blur, she could just make out someone in a white coat; and Tom. She smiled, let her eyes close again. ‘Katie?’
Opening them again, she watched as Tom paced to the windows where he leant his head on the windowpane. He was still in a beach towel, tied around his waist, and a damp T-shirt. He stretched his hands up above him, then placed them on the back of his head. She tried to shake her head. Everything was looking a bit misty.
‘Katie.’ It was that voice again. ‘Can you look at me…?’ Opening her eyes more fully, she saw there was an older man in a white coat peering at her. He’s very close, thought Katie.
‘Just going to look into your eyes, OK?’ he said shining a very bright yellow light into her eyes. Then he moved back, glancing at her notes.
‘A very sore head, right? Fast ascent from a dive? Hit your head on a paddle surfboard, then blacked out for a while? Good job the paddle surfer was there, really…’
Katie nodded gingerly, grimacing as her head hurt even with such a small movement. She hadn’t a clue what he was talking about. She sighed and closed her eyes again. Tom came over to the bed. Held her
hand. She could feel the warm fingers clutch her and she squeezed her hand around his. Opening her eyes again, she tried to say something, but nothing came out. I can’t speak any more. What’s happened? She felt cold, shivery, stared at Tom.
All of a sudden there were more tests: blood tests, a urine sample. The doctor was talking to Tom again… I am so thirsty, thought Katie, as her oxygen mask was pulled off by a nurse. The doctor came back into the room, looked over at Tom.
‘I’m afraid your wife has had a nasty shock. Her MRI is pretty clear, but there’s some slight shadows I’m not very happy about. We’ll need to run another MRI in a few weeks.’
‘And what about her speech?’ As Tom said it, she could hear his voice break.
‘Well, I think what’s happened here is a transient ischemic attack…’ What? ‘We ran the MRI tests as a precaution because of the injury to her head from the paddle surfboard when she came up so fast. She’s very lucky he had his wits about him and dragged her onto his board.’ Katie listened and watched as Tom nodded.
‘However, your wife is displaying symptoms of a mini stroke.’
Katie opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Tom looked over, and watched as tears rolled down her cheek. He came over, stroked her hair. Suddenly there was another shooting pain in her head. Noticing her wince, the doctor told them he’d order a stronger dose of painkiller. Katie could hardly see him… My vision is so blurry, she thought, holding tightly on to Tom’s hand as she made out the tears trickling down his face too.
‘What does it all mean, doctor?’
‘Mini strokes are caused by a temporary fall in blood to the brain – with Katie’s accident, I suspect. All of her symptoms, the blurred vision, slurred speech and the droop to the left-hand side of her face—’
As he said it, she tried to lift her hand to her face, but she couldn’t move it. She was terrified. Tom could see the terror in her eyes and squeezed her arm.
‘It’s all right, darling. Doctor, tell her it’s all right—’
‘Mr Parkes, there’s no need to shout. It really will be fine. Most mini strokes are resolved in a day or so. I want you to take her home, keep a very close eye on her, and call an ambulance immediately if things worsen. I have prescribed her medication to take over the next twenty-four hours.’
After the doctor left, a nurse came in with the painkillers, and asked Tom to leave.
‘I just need a few minutes; is that OK?’ Katie heard Tom plead. She could just make out the nurse holding out her hand with her five fingers splayed; she mouthed ‘five minutes’ to him.
‘Katie,’ said Tom, picking up her hand. She wanted to lift her hand to brush away his tears, but couldn’t. She stared at him, could not speak. ‘Katie, it’s going to be fine. We’ll get you back home…’ She stared around the room. A very odd sound came out of her mouth.
His eyes were watery, brows furrowed; sandy blond hair stuck to his forehead. He pushed it away, took Katie’s other hand.
‘I want to say something.’ Tom stroked her hand. ‘I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since… they pulled you out of the boat – not knowing if you’d… you’d – Christ, Katie, I thought I’d lost you…’ A huge sob left him and he took a deep breath, carried on. ‘I’ve made a decision. I want you to be happy, Katie, I really do. I know how hard it’s been for you, coming over here, hating the heat, the homesickness… how I’ve hurt you. These last six months have been unbearable. I miss you; miss the kids. That day I came to Sydney, to surprise you at the house. I wandered around before you got home, stared at the photos, I… I went into your drawer in your room, held your clothes up to my face, and just smelled you, smelled my wife… and I sobbed Katie, sobbed like a small child.’
He stared at her, stoked her hair again as she stared at him. ‘I never want to feel like that again. Being away from you, it’s made me realise I don’t care where we live, as long as we’re together. I love you, Katie. I’ve been so foolish, so utterly stupid with what happened with Ann.
‘I don’t want any other girl – I want the Katie who is right here in front of me: the strong, funny, brave and bloody supportive woman you are…’ He took a deep breath. She tried to smile as he squeezed her hand and she could see the tears glisten in the corners of his eyes.
‘Let’s go home, darling, leave Australia. You have done so much for me and I’ve hardly been a good husband. I hate myself, hate what I’ve done to you. All I want is for you and the kids to be happy, if you were… were… gone… listen, all I want is to be with you, to make you happy. Gramps and I will look after you… if you’ll…’ his eyes were shiny, hopeful ‘…have me back?’
It’s all Katie could remember. She stared at his stubble, then closed her eyes, exhausted, but inhaling the familiar smell of Imperial Leather. Then, suddenly, it was like someone had just turned out all the lights again.
54
There was the sound of the thud of a football being kicked in the garden, a shriek through the thick air. The sun was trying to get in through the shutters in her window; tiny fragments of the Sydney sun had escaped and were flickering over her duvet and fluttering on the wall. Katie stared around the room, took in the thick layer of dust on the dressing table, her gown hanging, slightly askew, over the back of the chair. Tom’s slippers in the hallway.
She reached for the bedside clock; her head hurt. Oh yes, my head, she thought. How long have I been here? It was 1.30 p.m. She vaguely remembered a few blurry details, the ride home in the ambulance, the neighbours standing at the door, finding her way to the loo in the dark. Tom sitting next to her, fully clothed, reading a book, stroking her hair – when was that?
The bedroom door flew wide open and Andy bounced in. ‘Mummy’s awake!’
She screwed up her eyes, nodded. Can I speak? She tried. ‘Andy?’
He turned to look at her. ‘You sound funny, Mummy! I want cuddles!’ He hopped onto the bed, jumped up and down a few times then dive bombed in next to her and snuggled up. She inhaled his smell, buried her face in the nape of his neck.
She could smell a familiar smell and heard Gramps call out: ‘James! Hurry up! Where’s that tomato puree, son?’
Gramps cooking? I don’t believe it. The next thing she heard made her stiffen. It was a woman’s voice; she could just make it out. Who was it? Who was in her kitchen?
‘Andy, darling? Who’s in the kitchen with Gramps?’
‘Tharol – from kindy,’ he said with his thumb in his mouth. ‘You sound odd.’
‘Well, you’re awake!’ Tom wandered into the room and gave her a huge smile. He was wearing one of her aprons and the effect was ridiculous. A grown man in a tiny red and white gingham apron. She burst out laughing. But it just came out like a croak.
‘Hey! I couldn’t find any others,’ he said smiling. ‘And it looks like you’ve got your voice back!’
She nodded, almost too scared to use her voice again.
‘Tom, how long have I been here?’ she whispered.
‘Couple of days – initially you were out cold, but the doctor did warn us.’ He smiled, sat next to her on the bed and stroked her arm.
‘Oh, it all seems blurry. And—’ She quickly looked at the other side of the bed, then back at Tom.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said, raising his eyebrows, ‘I’ve been sleeping in the boys’ room. Quite a dorm in there!’
Just then, James came running in. ‘Mum! You’re awake! Hey, Dad’s been really worried about you! Like, really. Make the most of it!’ He bounded up to her as she caught sight of Tom nudging him in the ribs.
She gave him a kiss on the cheek. ‘Hi, darling,’ she mumbled.
‘Right. Well Gramps and I are making lunch, so we’ll bring some in on a tray. Vegetable soup, home-made ciabatta with extra virgin olive oil!’ He smiled at her and she watched as his broad shoulders disappeared into the hallway. Tom and Gramps cooking? She couldn’t quite believe it.
‘Mummy’s better!’ Andy sat up and faced her, touched he
r hair. ‘Didn’t like it when you were sleeping all the time, Mummy.’
‘No, darling, neither did I. I missed you all!’ She looked down at her adorable boy – he was wearing two odd socks, had tomato sauce stains on his collar and what looked like some toothpaste on his chin. She smiled and pulled him close.
The next few days passed with her very firmly in the invalid role. After she was given lunch in her bed, she was allowed up, and would let herself be led into the living room by Tom and Gramps where she sat quietly on the sofa. Every now and again she picked up Gramps’s binoculars and took a look out at the garden, at the birds in the trees. She spent most days like that, getting out of bed late, listening to the clatter of noise as Tom got the kids ready for school, the house bursting with noise, then the sudden quiet, the voices screeching down the driveway.
Tom had found a part-time childminder for Rory, who went there most mornings, while Tom worked from home and Gramps listened to the radio, or watched a bit of rugby on TV. In the afternoons, Tom would take her out to the deck, get a chair ready with her favourite cushions, bring out the latest batch of novels he’d borrowed from the library and settle her there, make her some ginger tea, place the fan next to her as it was getting very hot in the early December sun.
She’d usually wake up around 4 p.m., the book in her lap, to the sounds of the children coming home from school, running up to her on the deck and kissing her, yelling about the day they’d had, who had stolen their hats, which teacher had been on duty on the playground, what they’d had for lunch, who they’d played with at morning tea…
She listened to them quietly, took in what they said. Some days she felt strong enough to cope with a spelling test, but most days she went back to bed, exhausted. Tom did the majority of the homework help, the projects, the packed lunches, the instrument practice, bathed the boys, washed their hair, read stories, collapsed into bed next to her as she awoke briefly and smiled at him.
